


This Place of Wrath and Tears

by 7_wonders



Series: Who Could Ever Learn to Love a Beast? [2]
Category: House of Cards (US TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Beauty and the Beast Fusion, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:00:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23352091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/7_wonders/pseuds/7_wonders
Summary: Jim is missing, and nothing can prepare you for what you stumble upon in your quest to find him.
Relationships: Duncan Shepherd & Reader, Duncan Shepherd & You, Duncan Shepherd/Reader, Duncan Shepherd/You
Series: Who Could Ever Learn to Love a Beast? [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1679569
Kudos: 4





	This Place of Wrath and Tears

**Author's Note:**

> Hi friends, another oneshot in this lil AUniverse! If you enjoyed, comments and kudos would be much appreciated, as well as ideas on what oneshots you would like to see in this AU. Follow me on Tumblr @7-wonders for more :)

The woods that you find yourself stumbling through are especially dark, enough so that you can’t see your hands in front of your face. Sticks snapping under your feet cause you to walk faster in the hopes that the animals calling to each other amongst the foliage won’t catch on that you’re not welcome here.

If you could have, you would have turned back around the moment the sun dipped below the treeline. But you can’t, not when Jim’s life is on the line. Of course, no one would have blamed you for not being able to finish this impromptu rescue mission. It’s not your fault that your best friend had to go and get himself in trouble when he was supposed to be on a solo photography trip. It’s entirely possible that Jim’s not even in danger; you have no concrete proof that he’s not, after all. The string of texts that you had received from him earlier, however, have left a sinking in your stomach unlike any you had ever felt before.

_The Appalachians are beautiful, you can stand on a hill and see for miles!_

_Everything’s so clear out here, you would love it_

_Huh, just found a McMansion in the middle of the forest. Who would have thought the 1% hid out where even the moonshiners wouldn’t go?_

_It looks like it’s lived in…and the door’s unlocked_

_Holy shit, this is trippy_

_It literally looks like people just packed up and left, but there’s no mention of this house on any map I looked at_

_I think there’s somebody here_

_I don’t know, it feels like I’m being watched_

_I need to leave_

That was the last text that you had received from him, and in the four hours since you had opened his message, he hadn’t responded to any of your calls and texts. This was extremely unlike Jim, who always made sure to respond to you. The perk of two best friends with abandonment issues is that the other is always hyper aware of how a lack of communication feels.

Luckily, or maybe not so luckily, you were only a couple of hours away from Jim’s last shared location on Find My Friends. Making a split-second decision, you had hopped in your car and started driving, eventually having to walk. Now, you could only hope he was safe, and that you would be safe once you found him.

The cold is beginning to stiffen your fingers, and you flex them uncomfortably to keep the blood flowing when a sudden break in the dense brush gives you a burst of much-needed hope. Peeking through, you’re delighted to see what could only be described as a McMansion. It’s absolutely huge, and it’s impossible to not wonder how construction crews managed to ferry the materials needed to build such a home in the middle of the overgrown woods. 

You break into a sprint, dashing up the stone stairs to the oversized front door. It’s made of a dark wood, and your heart clenches in your chest when you notice claw marks on the surface. Checking your phone to make sure this is the same location that Jim’s phone last showed, you knock once, twice, three times before taking a step back.

The door creaks open, but there’s no face on the other side to greet you or ask what you’re doing at such an odd hour. Still, someone opened the door, and though the main lights are turned off, a dim light from inside beckons you in. Creeping into the home, you look around for whoever may have answered your call. You gasp in fear when the door closes behind you, grabbing your chest as if to stop your heart from racing away from you when you see that there’s nobody around.

“H-hello?” you stutter, cursing yourself for sounding like the protagonist in a B-rated horror film.

“It’s a girl!” Whirling around at the voice, your eyes search through the dimness to see who’s talking. Another voice shushes them, and the original whines, “sorry, I just got excited.”

“Um, I’m looking for my friend,” you try, turning around when you hear scuffling from behind you. “Jim Mason? He sent me some texts that had me really worried for him, and his phone said this was his last location.”

“I can help you.” This time, you’re sure you’re going crazy when you hear a voice. It sounded like they were right behind you, but spinning around reveals no one. At this point, you’re starting to get a little dizzy.

“Who’s there?” You don’t get an answer in the form of a response, only another door opening. “Do I–should I follow you?” Whatever, if you’re talking to air, you’re at least going to utilize it.

“He’s being kept in the basement!” The door that opened leads to stairs going down, so you assume that’s where you’re supposed to go. Fishing your phone out of your pocket, you turn the flashlight on to keep from tripping and falling.

The basement’s even colder than the forest that surrounds it, your breath coming out in visible puffs as you wrap an arm around yourself. “Jim?” 

It’s silent for a long moment, and then you hear a weak cough from the other end of the dingy room. “(Y/N)?”

“Jim!” Any hesitancy towards the fact that your best friend is being held captive goes out the window upon hearing his voice, and you run towards him until your flashlight shines on his face.

You can’t help the gasp that escapes you at the sight of him. His lip is cut open, and his right eye is black and blue. His skin, which had been the same golden-bronze as always when you saw him last week, was ashen now. You fall to your knees in front of him, not even able to fully embrace him due to the cell he’s trapped in. You settle for grabbing his hands with yours, cringing at the iciness of his skin and hoping that some of your warmth transfers to him.

“You have no idea how glad I am to see you,” Jim says, wincing at the pain speaking puts on his cut. “I really thought I was going to die here since that–that _thing_ took my phone from me and I couldn’t call for help.”

“We share our locations with each other, remember?”

“Oh thank God for that.”

“I have to get you out of here.” You stand up, begrudgingly letting go of Jim’s hands to look for a lock. “What did you mean when you said ‘that thing’ took your phone? Like, this is some psycho who likes to lure people into his house and lock them in his basement?”

If it’s possible, Jim manages to look even more pale. “I…whatever it was that dragged me down here, it wasn’t human. It was like a giant wolf, but it talked like a normal person. I’ve never seen anything like it, and frankly I hope I never have to see anything like it again.”

“Are you sure you don’t just have a concussion? I mean, monsters, that’s a little…”

“I know it sounds crazy (Y/N), believe me, but I’ve never been so sure of something before.”

“Okay, it’s okay Jimmy, I believe you.” You resort to calling him by his nickname to calm him down, smiling at him reassuringly while fishing two paper clips out of your backpack. “Aha! I knew they were hiding somewhere in there.”

“Oh fuck yeah, your hoarding habits are actually helping!”

“Funny,” you say with a look that conveys how not funny he is. Straightening out the small pieces of metal, you go to work at picking the lock a la Nancy Drew. Jim watches your hands as they twist and turn, listening closely to try and hear the lock click. “I think I’ve almost got it.”

Your words, meant to reassure him, fall on deaf ears as Jim stares wide-eyed behind you. His mouth opens and closes, trying to find the words to call out to you, but you don’t notice. Only when a large hand, that looks almost like a paw, comes down on your shoulder and yanks you away from the cell does Jim manage to yell at you to “run!”

You fall against the cement floor, phone skidding across the ground until it’s too far from your grasp. Something moves in the shadows, deliberately staying cloaked among the dark to keep you from seeing the identity of whoever threw you down.

“Who are you?” Your voice comes out much stronger than it did when you first arrived at this manor, although that might be from the adrenaline.

“The master of the house,” someone says from next to you. Looking up, all you can see in the small beam of light that your phone is casting up is a pair of angry blue eyes, wild like you’ve never seen a person’s.

“I’ve come for my friend.”

“Your _friend_ ,” this person spits, the growling tone making you shudder, “was trespassing. Now he’s my prisoner.”

“You can’t keep him locked up here, that’s cruel and illegal!”

The figure chuckles darkly, their eyes pinned to you as they move away from the light. “This situation defies the binds of normal society.” You have the feeling he’s not just talking about locking Jim up.

“(Y/N), please go. I’ll be fine here, I promise.” Jim looks so sincere that you almost believe him.

“ _No_ , Jim. You’ve been doing so good in your recovery; I’m not going to let you throw that support system away due to some psycho keeping you locked in their basement!” 

Jim had been completely clean for 293 days now, which was the longest he had been sober since he began abusing drugs and alcohol as a teenager. You were insanely proud of him, having dealt with some of his worse relapses in the years that you had known him. Still, you know how precarious sobriety is for a recovering addict, especially in the first year, and how vital a routine and good support from doctors is to maintaining that. You can’t let him lose this battle, not after he’s worked so hard.

“You said he’s your prisoner? Like, this is his punishment for trespassing?” The shadow hums their confirmation. “Then…then let me take his place. Let me serve his sentence.”

“What?” Jim cries in disbelief. If you’re being honest with yourself, you’re thinking the same thing. This is stupid and beyond dangerous, but it’s the only chance Jim has of getting out of here alive.

“I’ll be fine, Jim. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“You…you would do that? Take your friend’s place, just like that?” Jim’s captor says like they can’t believe anyone would ever do such a thing.

“ _If_ I did, you promise that you would let Jim go?”

“Yes, your friend would be free to leave.”

“And how long were you planning on keeping him here?”

There’s a long silence before you receive an answer. “Four months.” The voice is tense, although you’re not sure why. After all, you’re the one who’s about to be the prisoner here.

“Alright then, I’ll take his place.” You deliberately block out Jim’s shouts of protest as the shadow moves past you, keys jingling loudly when the cell gets unlocked. Jim crashes into you, your arms going around each other as you embrace.

“I’m going to get you out of here, (Y/N), I promise.” Jim is dragged away from you by the collar of his shirt, your grip on him being no match for the strength this creature possesses.

“No, wait! At least let me say goodbye.” The shadow ignores you so well, it’s as if you don’t even speak.

“Don’t worry, I’ll come back for you! And when I do, I’ll beat this motherfucker to a pulp!” You laugh bitterly through your tears as you watch Jim disappear around the corner. The gravity of the situation begins to hit you, and you breathe out heavily while you wonder if you just signed your own death warrant.


End file.
